


The one where Magnus can hear Isak and Even through the wall

by colazitron



Series: smut prompts [9]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Overhearing Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 01:30:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14069967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: On a cabin trip Magnus can hear Isak and Even having sex through the wall. He's trying to ignore it, he really, really is. (It doesn't work.)





	The one where Magnus can hear Isak and Even through the wall

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with the characters depicted herein or their creators. This is all for fun.
> 
> for anon. Magnus/??? - "dazed and confused"

Magnus doesn’t get how Jonas can sleep through this. Not because he doesn’t want Jonas to be missing out or anything, just because the walls in this cabin are way, way thinner than he thought and holy fucking shit Isak and Even are being so fucking loud.

Heh.

 _Fucking_ loud.

But seriously, it’s been like half an hour. And that’s only since it got so loud that Magnus noticed. They’re probably not this loud from the word go, right? Or. Is that. Should people be immediately loud? Is that a thing? Vilde is never this loud until the very end, but, shit, the slap of skin on skin and moans and groans have gone on so long now Magnus has no idea if any sort of end is in sight.

Mahdi drew the short straw and had to sleep on the pull-out couch in the living room, but right about now Magnus thinks that was actually a blessing in disguise. Sure, they waited until they could expect Magnus and Jonas to be asleep, and Jonas is somehow actually sleeping through this, but Magnus.

Fuck.

Shit.

Magnus can’t block it out.

He forgot his headphones and he doesn’t know where Jonas keeps his, doesn’t want to stumble around the dark room and wake Jonas or let Isak and Even know that he can hear them. But if he turns on the light then Jonas will probably wake up too and anyway the floors creak something awful in this cabin.

And like. If he wakes Jonas and Jonas sees him stumbling around, then Jonas will see– will see–

The slap-slap-slap next door slows down, and Isak – it has to be Isak, because it’s followed by the low rumble of Even’s voice, words that Magnus can’t make out – whines high and urgent.

Magnus’ dick twitches in his pants, the fucking traitor, and Magnus almost whines himself.

He’s not– he doesn’t–

He’s never thought he’d be into this. It’s _Isak_ , for one. Isak is just his bro. And, like. His _bro._ Magnus isn’t into dick, he never has been. And even when Isak’s voice goes up in pitch like this it doesn’t really sound like a girl’s voice, and what’s more is that Magnus knows, okay, he _knows_ that it’s Isak making those noises. Isak with his knobby knees and birthmarks on his shoulders. His habit of dragging Magnus at every opportunity, and those soppy fucking moon eyes he makes at Even all the time.

Shit, he’s probably making those eyes right now. Isak and Even are probably the type to fuck missionary and look each other in the eyes and call it “making love”.

Or maybe– maybe, given the slow deliberate slaps and the staccato moans they seem to punch out of Isak– maybe he’s on his knees and Even– behind. With his big hands on Isak’s hips and his big lips on Isak’s shoulders and his– his dick– inside—

Fuck fuck fuck.

Magnus’ dick pulses hotly and he rolls over onto his front, traps it between the mattress and his stomach, brings his hands up to put them on his ears. He needs to stop listening, he needs to stop thinking, he needs to stop being so fucking turned on by the sound of his friends fucking. With Jonas right there in the bed next to him, shit.

Only he can still hear them with his hands on his ears, or maybe it’s just that he’s been hearing them for so long that the sounds are in his brain now; the moans and the occasional words he can’t hear and sometimes even a brief laugh. Like, what? Who laughs while they fuck? And not “whoops, I didn’t mean to do that let me try again” embarrassed laughs, just– laughs.

Anyway, Magnus tries really, really hard to think of Vilde. Drown out those flickers of thoughts that try and think of Isa—

VILDE.

Vilde and her long hair. Vilde and her pink lips. Vilde and her pretty, sparkly eyes, and the way she looks at him when it feels particularly good. The way her hands feel on his shoulders when he’s above her. How she used to always hold her tits in one arm when she rode him, embarrassed by how they bounced when they hung free until he convinced her that it turned him on like nothing else.

Fuck.

Her tits.

Vilde has such good tits.

And now that she’s stopped hiding from him, let’s him look as well as touch, even lets him say how gorgeous he thinks she is it’s just– fuck, Magnus is so into her. She’s so hot.

And when Magnus hitches his hips a little – just a little, so he doesn’t jostle the mattress and wake Jonas – it feels really good. Not as good as Vilde, the tight, wet heat of her, but still pretty good.

There’s a crick in his neck from having his face turned to the side and he’s pretty sure it’s gone quiet beyond the safety of his hands on his ears, so he brings his hands down and folds them under his head, uses them to cushion his face.

And then Even moans – long, low, drawn out, and a perfect complement to the higher, breathy noise that Isak makes, just briefly and like—

Just like that Magnus’ mental image collapses.

Vilde’s hair shortens to Isak’s curls, her shoulders wider, her chest flat and sculpted like Magnus can never help but notice because how? When? Isak never talks about working out or going to a gym or anything but he has to, because he has fucking abs, and his arms look like _that_ and his _thighs. Fuck._

Nothing like Vilde’s slender, soft legs around his hips. They’re strong and meaty and Magnus has seen him carry Noora on his back like she weighs nothing at all.

And Even’s so— so tall. There’s so much of him, but it’s all slim, almost stretched-too-far, with his slender arms and legs, practically drowning in his loose t-shirts usually. Like his shoulders planned for more body than Even ever grew. Can Isak carry him too? He can probably hold him down and fuck– shit and Even’s face, those _lips,_ he probably looks so _good_ with a dick—

There’s a noise stuck in the back of Magnus’ throat, but at least Isak and Even seem to be done, so he just has to stop thinking about it now and stop – fucking _stop rutting against the bed._

He just can’t seem to actually do it, to actually make his hips stop, the push-pull of his boxers on the head of his dick addictively good, so he slowly turns his head around to check that Jonas, at least, is still asleep.

Jonas’ eyes glitter in the dark, and his mouth is open a little around quiet breaths. Heat flushes the back of Magnus’ neck, along the entire line of his spine, his hands and toes cold in a flash and his heartbeat kicking up about 5000 notches.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Jonas licks his lips and swallows harshly, and it’s only then that Magnus notices the duvet over his shoulder move, like his hand is– like he’s–

That confused-hurt-turned-on noise from earlier makes it halfway out of Magnus’ throat before he quiets himself again, but it’s enough for Jonas to squeeze his eyes shut for a second before staring right at Magnus again.

“I can’t– they’re–” Jonas says, face looking exactly like the mess in Magnus’ own head.

Magnus can’t put it into words either, the knot of emotions in his belly, so he reaches out a hand for Jonas to reassure him that Magnus gets it, only– well. Jonas is lying on one hand, and the other one’s still probably stuffed down his underwear, so Magnus ends up patting awkwardly at Jonas’ cheek, feels the beginning of peach fuzz at the line of his jaw and has to breathe through the sudden urge to touch Jonas’ mouth.

Only then Jonas tilts his face and puts his open mouth on the tips of Magnus’ fingers, just a hint of damp heat and the brush of his smooth teeth, and Magnus’ dick, which he almost forgot about over the shock of finding Jonas awake, twitches and he ruts down against the bed without thought. He feels his eyes go wider, is about to fling himself from the room and huddle up with Mahdi, his boner probably gone from mortification by the time he’d reach the living room, but then Jonas tweaks the tip of his finger with his teeth. Deliberately.

A shiver races up Magnus’ arm and he stays rooted to the spot, frozen between fight and flight and the blood pulsing hotly in his dick.

“Do it,” Jonas says, Magnus fingers falling to the sheet by his head.

Magnus bites back another noise and watches the movement on Jonas’ arm pick back up while his own hips start moving again.

Fuck.

Oh fuck.

He can’t believe– he’s not—

He can’t even really picture anything in his mind, everything a screaming confusing mess of Vilde-Isak-Even-Jonas’ breath hot and panting on his fingers that Magnus somehow doesn’t dare pull back. At least if he’s getting off to whatever this is he’s not alone in it.

It feels like Magnus only just started, but he also knows that he’s been hard for a while now, and when a particularly strong shudder climbs down his spine, he slips his other arm beneath his body, tilts his hips back and wraps his hand around his dick, wanking it in earnest.

He’s still staring at Jonas, at the glitter in his eyes from the sparse light the moon casts through the windows and then suddenly he’s biting the pillow just to make sure he really, really won’t make any noise. By the time he comes back up from under the wave of pleasure Jonas is still going, his breath suddenly sounding so much louder in the room and Magnus almost– wants to touch. Help him along. Somehow.

His fingers twitch with the impulse, but he doesn’t know where to take it so his hand stays where it is, hot and damp with Jonas’ breath, and Jonas’ eyes flick down, catch the movement of it. They stare at each other with wide eyes over the silent implication until Jonas suddenly squeezes his eyes shut, goes still and Magnus has suddenly watched a boy come.

The room is quiet, nothing coming through the walls, Jonas’ breathing controlled and quiet until it slows back down, but the inside of Magnus’ head is a messy storm until he falls asleep.

 

**The End**


End file.
